


Pining for the Fjords

by liadan14



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Pining, Slightly less experienced Jim, Very experienced Bones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 12:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12531284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liadan14/pseuds/liadan14
Summary: Jim is definitely not bitter that the rumor mill has him and Bones the wrong way around. He is also definitely not pining away for Bones.





	Pining for the Fjords

People have a tendency to underestimate, Jim thinks. He’s nursing a beer, his second of the night, and sitting in an alcove in his favorite bar.

Really, it’s Bones’ favorite bar. Jim likes it because he does. 

And really, it’s not just underestimating, it’s also overestimating.

Maybe it’s just estimating. 

Anyway. They’re on shore leave in San Francisco, for the third time since the Enterprise’s disastrous maiden voyage, and Jim is sitting quietly in his corner, watching Bones flirt outrageously.

And to be completely honest, Jim has no fucking clue how they got here.

Here being, him as the well-known party king and Lothario of Starfleet, Bones as the crotchety, socially incompetent genius doctor. Because it’s not true.

In fact, it’s never been true. Not once. Not in their first semester, when Bones was fucking the divorce out of his system every Saturday and Jim was studying his ass off for the first time in his life.

Not in their second year, when Bones had a few fuckbuddies he would go out to spend the night with once or twice a week, one of them with a frankly alarming amount of tentacles. Jim spent this time cautiously dating a third-year command track girl, and there was some sex, sure, but things fizzled out pretty quickly.

Not post-Narada, when Bones took off from this very bar with a married couple and (apparently) gave them the ride of their life if the amount of messages they left on the comm in Jim and Bones’ shared apartment was anything to go by. Jim, post-Narada, couldn’t talk for ten days after getting the life choked out of him, and all he wanted was a glass of whiskey and some silence.

And not now, when Bones has clearly charmed the pants off the gorgeous blonde at the bar and is fixing to take her home and fuck her brains out, while Jim sits there and watches like an idiot.

It’s not that Jim doesn’t get laid. He does. He had that thing with Gaila, after all, and that still stings when he thinks about it. He flirts outrageously when he feels like it, and he can schmooze with the best of them, or he would never have passed his endless diplomacy requirements. Bones is just on a whole other league.

It never made him a bad roommate or anything – actually, he was very respectful, always comming ahead of time if he was having someone over, never asking Jim to leave, offering to go elsewhere. Even in those first few months, when his hookups were fueled by alcohol more than by charm, he was respectful to Jim.

It never even made him a bad friend. Jim supposes that’s the maturity of a man in his late twenties who had cohabitated before. 

Still, it bothers Jim. His own reputation – fine by him, he supposes. He’s done a few things people think he’s done, he does like to flirt, and he definitely got wasted enough in their first year at the academy at least once or twice to merit some of the wilder tales. The whole love ‘em and leave ‘em aspect of what people think of him is more than a little off, though. 

Jim is terrible at one night stands. He’s never had one that didn’t last at least a week, and he always mourns the loss of a new lover for at least twice that.

And what really, really bothers him? Common knowledge gets Bones so very wrong. They don’t get his crooked grin, his easy manners, his lethally beautiful hands spinning gestures as he chats up women, men, and anything and everything else that strikes his fancy. Sure, he can be a crotchety son of a bitch when he’s worked more than ten hours in a row, but given the shit he puts up with (especially from Jim), Jim doesn’t hold that against him.

Jim should know, he’s been watching.

Which is honestly, really kind of sad.

“Hey,” Bones says, sliding back into the seat across from Jim. “What’s got you all mopey and lonely back here?”

“Hmm?” Jim asks, pulled out of his reverie.

“I know for a fact there are at least four people in this bar who’d suck you off in the next alley, and here you are, ignoring them,” Bones says.

Jim shrugs. 

Bones levels him with a glare. “What’s wrong?”

Jim musters a smile from somewhere. “Nothing. Go back to your lady friend, I’m fine.”

“Eh. Not really feeling it tonight.”

“You?” Jim asks. “Not feeling it? Will wonders never cease.”

In a testament of how buzzed he is, Bones sticks his tongue out. “I’m not that bad.”

Jim snorts. “I think you’re the only person who’s fucked as many species as people think I have.”

“Okay, something is definitely wrong with you tonight,” Bones says, tone edging dangerously towards pissed off.

“It’s nothing.” Jim says. “I’m tired. I think I’m going to go get some sleep. Have fun.” He throws a few extra credit chips on the table and high-tails it out of the bar as fast as he can before he lets any more of his jealousy seep through.

-

The incident seems mostly forgotten by the time the Enterprise takes off again a week and a half later, and Jim is thankful. 

Sort of.

To be frank, Jim hasn’t really been interested in anyone but Bones for a while now. At least since he officially got command of the Enterprise.

It’s a real boner-killer, command. Anyone staffing the Enterprise but Bones and Spock? Glaring abuse of power and resulting consent issue. Anyone they encounter on their various away-missions? A little flirting goes a long way, but Jim knows better than to stick his dick in a diplomatic incident, or worse yet, violate the prime directive with his penis.

It's just a shame no one believes he does. Uhura still glares, sighs, tuts, when he so much as smiles at a foreign diplomat.

So maybe it’s not Jim’s fault his only fantasies are of Bones, of his long tapered fingers and his broad, strong shoulders.

Maybe it’s a little his fault. Maybe he should have caught this obsession much earlier and nipped it in the bud.

Too late now.

Bones is good on board the Enterprise, though. At least here, Jim doesn’t have to watch him fuck an endless succession of gorgeous blondes.

So things are fine. Jim is maybe pining a little bit, but he has it under control. Bones is oblivious. It’s all good. It will be okay.

Is what Jim thinks until Scotty reveals his stupid secret engine-distilled moonshine, because of course.

He’s got them all in his quarters, Scotty does, for an evening of poker. But Jim’s tolerance for home-brewed liquor is low (sue him, this shit is at least 80 proof and he is so tired and so lonely and maybe he overdid it a little). Things get out of hand.

Bones is, of course, not really drunk. Bones is never really drunk on board the Enterprise, because he’s the best doctor in the universe. 

“You’re the best doctor in the universe,” Jim tells Bones. “No, any universe.”

Bones grins. Jim melts. “Aw, thanks, Jim. Had a little too much of that hooch, huh?”

Uhura is laughing at Jim. She does that. Jim’s cool with it. She’s also pretty drunk.

“Nah,” Jim says. “I think I’ve had just enough.” He takes another sip. 

“You would say that,” Uhura says, not even slurring even though Jim is sure she’s wasted. “Reprobate.”

“You shouldn’t even know long words this late,” Jim tells her seriously. He’s probably lucky Spock thinks poker is illogical and is meditating somewhere, or that would earn him a lecture on polysyllabilism or something.

Uhura scoffs at him. She scoffs. Like he’s twelve. Jim pouts. 

Bones is laughing, his deep belly laugh that makes Jim feel warm and safe and happy and like he’s really accomplished something in his life if he can make Bones laugh like that. 

Jim sighs. “You’re all so pretty.”

Uhura groans. “Oh no you don’t. No flirting here, we’re not the Jim Kirk harem.”

Jim is drunk, and that stings. He frowns, says nothing.

Scotty is laughing. Jim guesses Uhura is funny. She usually is. He just doesn’t like being the punchline.

“Oh come on, Captain,” Uhura says, “we all know you get around.”

That’s enough, Jim decides, and he gets up, stumbles a little, and leaves.

He doesn’t see Bones take away the last of the moonshine, tell Uhura she overstepped and she doesn’t know shit, and storm off after him.

-

Because she’s so fucking good at communications, Uhura corners him in the observation deck three days later, past the start of gamma shift, when there’s no one else there.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know what I said, but I’m guessing something was wrong.”

“Apology accepted,” Jim says. He’s looking at the stars, and maybe she won’t see him blush.

She settles next to him, and Jim loses all hope of this conversation ending with his dignity intact. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jim sighs.

The hell of it is, he does.

But he shouldn’t.

But he does.

But he won’t.

Because she’s his subordinate, and she doesn’t need details about his sex life and how much of it currently is concentrated on fucking himself with his own fingers in the shower, wishing it was his CMO.

“Okay,” she says. “I’m going to hazard a guess that maybe you don’t get around that much?”

“Nope,” Jim says.

“Uh-huh.” She pauses, then presses on, because Nyota Uhura may occasionally be a little judgmental, but she is sharp as a tack, honest and decent and she’s going to help Jim whether he wants it or not, and Jim loves that about her, but he can feel his stomach sinking into his feet. “And I’m guessing that that kind of bothers you?”

“No,” Jim says. “It doesn’t. I’m not very good at casual sex.”

“Hm,” Uhura says. “It sounds to me like you wish you were?”

“I wish it didn’t bother me,” Jim says, voice raw.

“Wish what didn’t bother you?”

“Everything, I guess,” Jim says. “I don’t care that people think things about me, they’ll do that if I care or not. But if I were…If I could…”

“If you could what, Jim,” Uhura asks gently, her hand on his shoulder.

Jim sighs. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does. You’re sad, and I made you that way.”

Jim looks her in the eye. “You didn’t make me sad, I was sad before. If you want to know the honest truth, it has nothing to do with you, I just…carrying around this reputation makes it hard for people to believe I could have an honest emotion.”

Uhura looks down, flushing a little. “I’m sorry I misjudged you, then.”

“You had every reason to,” Jim tells her. “And no reason to be sorry. I’m sorry, for being all emotional and weird.”

“Emotions aren’t weird.”

“Tell that to your boyfriend.”

“ _Jim_.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s McCoy, isn’t it?”

Jim startles. “I…”

Uhura smiles. “Maybe you should talk to him.”

Jim shakes his head. “I couldn’t be casual with him.”

She doesn’t answer, but she stands there a while with him, letting him nurse his unhappy heart in silence.

-

Jim’s intense respect for Uhura and her social competence hits an all-time low two weeks later, when Bones comes storming into his room.

“A little bird told me something, Jim,” he says, and Jim cringes.

“Did they,” he says.

“Yeah. Accused me of stringing you along while you sit around pining for me.”

“I…” Jim stops. “Um.” 

Really, there’s nothing much he can say to that.

“I don’t think you’re stringing me along,” Jim says.

“But you are pining for me?”

“I’m not wasting away to nothing,” Jim insists. “I’m just…”

“Pining,” Bones says.

“Would you stop using that word?” 

Bones steps closer, and Jim has to back up. He cannot deal with this conversation, with the way Bones smells, faintly like antiseptic and pine needles. It makes him dizzy, and it makes him ache. 

“Does this have anything to do with you avoiding me for all of shore leave?” Bones asks, and damn it, Jim knew that would come back to bite him.

“Or with you storming out when Uhura made a dumb joke?”

Jim still says nothing, stepping further back.

“Or with how you can’t even be in the same room with me alone anymore? You’re my best friend, Jim.”

Bones sounds so honestly confused and upset that Jim has to look at him, and it’s a mistake, because looking at Bones’ eyes makes Jim feel about twelve years old and like he’s going to swoon.

“I’m sorry,” he says, because it seems like the right thing to say.

“What the blazing hell for?”

Jim picks at a loose thread in his sleeve. “I don’t know, for ruining our friendship with my stupid feelings? I didn’t want you to know, it’s just…hard to watch you…you know, go home with people, be happy with no strings attached, because I want you with so many strings, and I can’t be around you without feeling bad.”

Bones keeps fucking stepping closer, and Jim is running out of space to step back. 

“You fucking idiot,” Bones says.

“I think that’s a little harsh,” Jim says, pressed up against the bulkhead. He can’t escape from Bones’ scent now, or from his stupidly beautiful eyes, or from his really very strong arms and extremely attractive shoulders. “Also, I think maybe now you’re stringing me along a little.”

“How long?” Bones asks.

“Um.”

“Since the Narada?” 

Jim shakes his head.

“Since the academy?”

“Maybe.”

Bones presses even closer, till they’re chest to chest, sharing the same air, and Jim maybe moans a little. “Let me make this very clear, Captain Numbnuts. I may have slept around a lot, sure, but if I had known how you felt about it, I would have been taking exactly one person home. And it would be you, you idiot, do you think I would go into space for five years for just anyone?”

“Oh,” Jim gasps. “Why didn’t you…”

“What the fuck would someone like you want with a washed-up divorced hick?”

“ _Bones_ , you’re-“

“No, let me, Jim, you’re so fucking beautiful and brilliant and I never want to stand in your way of having everything you want.”

There’s not an inch of their bodies that isn’t touching, and the last of Jim’s dignity waves goodbye. “I want you,” he says, and Bones kisses him.

Jim’s eyes slide shut and his hands migrate up to clutch at Bones’ really fucking fantastic shoulders. He feels kind of like the heroine of a romance novel, gasping into Bones’ mouth and letting Bones push his head back to suck at his throat.

His own hands are running up under Bones’s shirt, petting through his chest hair, catching on his nipples, and finally he wrenches Bones’ mouth away to stare at him, and really he was intending on getting Bones more undressed, but all he can do when he sees that look in Bones’ eyes, that dark, affectionate, almost happy look, all he can do is drag him in for more kisses.

Jim fucking loves kissing. It’s maybe his favorite part, slow, honeyed kisses shaking him down to his marrow. He started moaning into Bones’ mouth at some point, probably when Bones’ hands slid down to cup his ass.

Bones pulls back, gasping. “Oh, _darlin’_ ,” he says. 

Jim’s knees shake.

Somehow that leads to Bones dragging him over to the bed, pulling off both their shirts. 

“How are you so ripped,” Jim asks, dragging his tongue over Bones’ beautiful abs. 

“Some idiot keeps dragging me to the gym,” Bones responds, and then his hips buck up and Jim realizes abruptly that he is very, very hard. He whines. There’s no other word for it.

Apparently, that leads to him being turned onto his back instantly, Bones ripping open his pants and grabbing at his dick. Jim sobs as Bones’ perfect, plush mouth sinks down on his dick. “Oh god oh god oh god yes Bones please,” he’s muttering when Bones grabs his hand, deposits it on his own head and basically begs Jim to fuck his face with his eyes.

Jim will not be held responsible for the way his eyes roll back in his head, or the borderline scream he lets out when his cock slides into Bones’ throat. He’s chanting “fuck, fuck, fuck” when Bones slides back to trace his tongue all over the head, sloppy-wet and greedy.

Bones pulls back grinning. “God you taste good,” he said, and his voice has gone so gravelly Jim will probably just come listening to it.

When Bones drags his tongue past behind Jim’s balls and over his hole, Jim gives up on words entirely. He holds his legs up to his shoulders by the knees and just about cries for it. It can’t possible be comfortable for Bones, he must be getting a crick in his neck, but Jim is about five seconds from shooting all over himself and he’s not sure he can put his consideration into words.

This, of course, is when Bones pulls back, asks, “got any lube?”

It take Jim the better part of a minute and Bones’ fingers tight around the base of his cock to be able to answer.

And then, of course, Bones’ slicked up fingers slide right into his ass and he moans. 

“You’re so pretty, darlin’, all open and greedy for me,” Bones says, stabbing his pointer finger up against Jim’s prostate. Jim whimpers. 

Bones slides in a second finger just as his mouth returns to Jim’s dick, and Jim just about floats off the bed, he feels so good. 

He’s saying some truly embarrassing things, he realizes, about how pretty Bones’ eyes are, and about how he’s dreamt about those hands filling him up and those lips on his and how much he needs it. When he says, “I wanted you in me so bad, I would finger myself and it was never enough, please, Bones, fuck me,” Bones growls.

Jim cries out, and again, it’s only Bones’ fingers wrapping tight around the base of his cock that stop him coming like a freight train.

Bones pulls out his fingers and rips off his own pants, and Christ on a cracker, he has the most beautiful cock Jim has ever seen, and he just about falls over himself to touch it, to lick it, to show it how much he wants it.

“Shh, honey,” Bones says, running his finger through Jim’s hair. “There’ll be enough of that later, I promise. Right now, I’d like to fuck you, if it’s all the same.”

Which is how Jim finds himself on his knees, Bones sliding inside him, lethally slowly. The air punches out of his lungs, and again, and again until Bones is settled all the way inside and Jim’s hips are hitching slightly backwards.

He knows it kind of hurts, he does, but he’s so turned on he doesn’t really care, he just needs more sensation. 

When Bones starts moving he knows he won’t last long. “I need,” he gasps, “I’m gonna.”

Bones groans, a deep, gravel-laced sound. “Do it for me,” he said. “I ain’t even gotta touch you, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Jim shakes.

But Bones is steady behind him, steady and deep, his lips on Jim’s throat and his cock up against Jim’s prostate and he just takes it, and takes it until fireworks burst up and down his spine and he’s grinding back against Bones furiously. Until he finally comes, all over himself, shooting all over his chest and up to his chin and crying out for Bones.

Bones groans out something that might be an endearment and might be a curse behind him, fucks forward a few more times, and Jim just about screams as that gorgeous dick batters into his sensitive prostate, and then Bones comes deep inside him shuddering.

Jim has never been so happy in his life.

Or so sated.

“Jesus Christ, you’re good at that,” he says, muffled into the pillow he slumped over forwards onto. Bones is still behind him, spooning him, and Jim feels warm and safe and cared for.

Bones smiles against his ear, and Jim can tell how fucking smug he is. “What can I say, you’re an inspiring partner.”

“And it won’t…this isn’t the only…?” Jim trails off, unsure of how to not sound incredibly needy.

Bones rolls him over onto his back, kissing him thoroughly. “Jim,” he says patiently, “I have every intention of seeing this through.”

“Okay, then,” Jim says, more than a little smug himself. “I guess I won’t kill Uhura for telling you then.”

Bones pauses. “Uhura?”

“She didn’t sic you on me?”

Bones shakes his head. “Spock read me a very logical riot act about your work efficiency. I read between the lines.”

Jim settles back against the pillow, snaking an arm around Bones to pull him closer. “Fascinating.”


End file.
